


Between A Rock And A Hard Place

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Crushes, Dirty Talk, F/M, Flirting, Jealousy, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Past One Night's Stand, Secret Crush, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, Walking In On Someone, brief pregnancy mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28609332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Papa III and Copia both have feelings for you, revealed at the most inopportune of moments. Tensions between all rise and come to a climax as you're found in a bed you shouldn't be.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Between A Rock And A Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Requested through that one site, Kolive-Figuana. Inquire about yours on my tumblr, @kissthegoghuleh.

Sitting in Papa’s office, you watch the older man halt his pacing and sit down on the edge of his desk, crossing his ankles. You were about as close to him as any other Sibling in the church. The two of you had shared an amazing night together, though you can’t help but wonder if he can even distinguish who you were from someone else. Not that you held it against him—you hadn’t been expecting anything after that night, even though Papa had lingered in your thoughts for a few weeks after.

“Sister,” he says, drawing you out of reminiscence.

“Papa?” you reply. He ducks his head, and smiles. At least things hadn’t become awkward between the two of you. But why should they? It was only a little fun between two people. It’s not like he has anything else on the mind with you.

“You don’t know how grateful I am to have your assistance with this.”

“Not a problem,” you nod. Despite it being close to the end of your usual work day in the Church, it was a welcome request from the Papa himself—he had requested your help with this issue specifically, along with Cardinal Copia’s as well for his knack for taking care of projects efficiently and quickly. Now, you’re waiting on the aforementioned to arrive so you know what you’ll be assisting with. Your eyes drift past Papa to his shelf, where he has an ancient looking relic sitting in the middle of some books. He gets up, beckoning you.

“You are interested, si? Come.” You approach, and Papa takes the antique off the shelf. “This is something that has been in my family for millennia, Sister. Would you like to feel it?” You reach forward, and Papa wraps your hand around it. His touch seems to linger, and you can feel his eyes on the side of your face. “Such a nice feeling, no? So... heavy in your hand.” Your breath hitches, and Papa lets go of your hand. “We are alone. There is something I have been meaning to confess to you, and now would be the best time.”

Interrupting the moment, a knock sounds at the door. “Come,” Papa sighs, and you return to your seat, dizzied a little bit from the proximity you had only felt once before in his bed. Copia comes in, and nods to both of you.

“Sister. Papa.”

“Cardinale,” Papa nods, avoiding eye contact. He seems a bit colder toward Copia than he would normally be—he’s fond of him, he’s said so himself, so the only reason he could be feeling any animosity toward him now is for derailing the confession he had been about to make to you. A blush heats your cheeks, and you look down to your lap. Could it be something intimate? You never would have guessed Papa had a thing for you—at least, not until he practically almost kissed you just now.

“So. What is it that you needed us for?” Copia asks, opting to take a seat beside you. He glances over to you, then quickly back to Papa.

“The Catholics are at it again, cazzo,” the older man complains. “We are under fire for something in some state, and I cannot be bothered to deal with the shitstorm that is coming our way. So, I will hand it off to you two, the only ones I would trust with such a thing.”

“But Papa,” you protest, “I’m only a Sibling. Wouldn’t you prefer a ghoul to work on confidential clergy matters? There has to be better qualified people for the job.”

“Like I said,” Papa winks your way, “I have the utmost faith in you.” You swallow, and Copia clears his throat. He looks between the two of you, and after a lingering glance your way, he turns to Papa.

“Where are the papers to acquaint us with this case?”

“They’re right...” Papa trails off. “Merda. They are in my suite, I was reading over them last night when I could not put my brain to rest.” He motions with a flourish to his head, checks the monstrance clock on his desk, and scowls. “I have a meeting with my brothers in ten minutes.” He digs around in his pocket, takes out his cigarettes and a lighter. “Five minutes to myself today, that is all I ask for, Papa ha bisogno di una fumo e di un pisolino. I will have to be quick...” At this point, he’s muttering to himself. Recalling what he’s doing, Papa tosses you a key. “To my room. Return it to me when you retrieve the papers, si?” After a moment, he finally tears his eyes away from you and settles on the Cardinal. “I thank you again.” He looks once more to you. “I am eternally in your debt.” With a swift, graceful spin, Papa turns and struts out the door on his way to the gardens to take the quick break he’d been meaning to before his meeting, one arm folded behind his back. You regard the ancient looking key in your hand.

“Better get to it.”

Copia nods, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief he produces from his pocket. As the two of you walk down the hall toward the Papal suite, he opens his mouth to speak several times. Each time when you notice this, he closes it again. As you’re about to open the door, he finally makes a sound.

“Sister?”

“Hm?”

Copia closes his mouth again. “Eh. Nothing, scusi.” Wondering what could possibly be on his mind, you creak open the door. Once inside, you shut it behind you, and Copia feels along the wall until he’s found the candelabra. He lights it with a nearby match, just as you find the regular lamp. He goes red in the face at the discovery. “Heh. Papa is old fashioned in many ways. I didn’t expect electricity in here at all.”

“I’ve been here before. I should know.” You look around the grand room. He certainly didn’t have any love for modernity—the place is decked out like a hellish palace of Versailles, and you love it. The bed is still a canopy, those same black and purple satin sheets inviting you to crawl onto it and spread your body across it as you had before, waiting for Papa to come out of his shower and wrap you up. You bite your lip, ignoring its call, and find Copia standing very awkwardly by the wall.

“You have been here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I... yeah, spent the night.”

“Ah. I see.” He wrings his hands, avoiding eye contact. Curiously, you wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. It seems as though he can’t even bear to look at the bed now.

“Where the hell are these papers?” you mutter. Copia makes a noise at the entrance to the ensuite, and holds them up from the other side of the room.

“They were beside the bathtub.”

“Of course,” you smirk. Imagining Papa in the bath makes your smile grow, but you can’t help the nagging feelings you have for the man standing before you... some of the same ones you have for Papa. Your curiosity at his behaviour, considerably stranger than usual, gives way to confusion, then to determination to unravel this mystery. “Copia?”

“Mm?” He looks up to you nervously. 

“What were you trying to tell me earlier?” He starts to back away as you advance on him. “Oh, it was nothing. I, eh... forget what exactly it was. Not important. Bing, it has gone from my brain, eh?” He chuckles weakly. 

“You look awfully perplexed,” you murmur, advancing still. “Frustrated, even.”

“I am fine,” he tries to assure, “I am wonderful, why do you ask?” You look down to his pants, where you can see the clear outline of his interest in you. He looks down to see where your eyes have fallen, and covers himself faster than a shot. “Apologies, Sister. I didn’t know I—”

“What did you really want to say?” you whisper, smoothing your hands up his chest. “Come on, Cardinal. I won’t tell. Nobody’s listening except the devil.” Copia leans in, as if pulled by the call of a siren. You only encourage this fantasy with hooded eyes, soft lips parted for him to admire. Admire he does. Finally Copia blinks, and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Pulling away, he looks stunned with himself.

“I...” Copia murmurs. He lets out a weak moan, cupping your face in a hurried act of desperation. He seals his mouth over yours, kissing you like a starving man who’d been dreaming of the taste of your lips for years and years. _Maybe he had._ When he pulls away, he’s looking down at your lips with the same desire Papa had been not fifteen minutes ago; it sends you for a loop, but it’s not like you don’t love it.

“Do you want me, Cardinal?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and walking backward. Copia swallows, eyes half lidded. “How badly?”

“At work,” Copia stutters out, “Or in the chapel, when I am writing my sermons... sometimes my thoughts wander. I start to think of you.” He looks embarrassed by this confession, but you gently move his chin back to look into his eyes, assuring him that it’s okay. “I think of... the sounds you would make when I first touch you.”

“Copia. Put your hand here,” you breathe, grasping one of his. You move it up your body, resting it on your breast, and his lips part as he cops a good feel. “—And find out.” A low moan spills from you, and your legs wrap around Copia.

“Should we be doing this here?” he mutters, grunting as you pull him onto the bed and between your legs. “In Papa’s bed?”

“Tell me part of you isn’t excited at the idea of fucking me here, on top of something that’s his.” You smile as you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “He wants me, you know. Papa does.” Your lower lip grazes his cheek, just above his sideburn. He looks down at you, eyebrows knitting.

“Yeah?” 

You nod. “I know it. He knows it. Now you know it. So what are you going to do about it?”

Something consumes Copia, and just as you had said, the desire to take you and make you his in Papa’s bedroom becomes too great. He tosses all the decorative pillows Papa’s ghouls have piled up neatly, and crawls toward you. Hands snake up your inner thighs, and your panties are off before your fingers can even twist around the posts of the headboard.

“I want to make you cum,” Copia whispers, “Harder than he did. I can do this cara, si?”

“Oh god, do it.” You help him by moving his hips closer, guiding him inside you until the both of you exhale your relief. Copia collapses overtop of you, and he thrusts for the first time, burying himself deep. “He fucked me right here,” you groan in his ear. “Made me cum five times, one after the other. I was screaming his name. Make me scream your name, Copia.” Entranced by your words with the faintest shred of jealousy growing from flame to fire inside of him, he catches Papa’s scent on the sheets. Something snaps inside of him, and he clutches you closer to him, whining and thrusting harder, deeper, so deep your back arches. Surprised at his pace but not unpleasantly, you grab onto his back and grind up into his cock. 

_“Copia.”_

He’s wanted to have you like this for so long. You’re his, not Papa’s. You’re moaning for him, not the man everybody gets on their knees for. Knowing Papa wants you too just makes this so much sweeter for him, and maybe a little, for you. A high pitched noise escapes you, and Copia swears. 

"I will not last-- please, cum for me, dear Sister. I want to feel your cunt squeeze me, milk me."

Just as you’re about to reach your peak together, the door opens.

Copia pounds in once more but pulls out quickly, flailing to the side. You can’t help but moan out your pleasure as your orgasm hits, and Copia gasps quietly, biting down on his fist as he grabs for his dick. He finishes in his hand seconds later, making eye contact with Papa through the entire climax.

Silence fills the room, and you hold your breath.

“The meeting finished.”

Copia looks terrified, shaking as Papa stalks forward to the foot of his bed. He puts his gloved hands down on the frame.

“I know you can be a flirt Cardinale. Lascivious, even. Desperate for the touch of a woman, certainly. This is a good thing in a church like ours. But never would I have imagined you would disrespect my personal chambers in this way.” He steps into the light to reveal the right side of his face, his one white eye gleaming. “And with her.”

“Papa—” you start to say.

“Get out of my bed,” he snarls. Exhaling and heart pounding as hard as Copia had been inside of you, you let the other man’s hand go and quickly right yourself. Copia does his pants back up, fingers flexing as he stands and wipes them off.

“Papa, I apologize. I don’t know what came over me, but it was all my doing. The Sister had nothing to do with—”

“She said yes, didn’t she?” Papa snaps. “Tell me again how she had nothing to do with it, stronzo.” You stay silent as Papa stands an inch away from Copia, demanding eye contact through intimidation alone. Copia manages to uphold it. “You dare to take her from me like this?” He sneers in Copia’s face. “You would be so bold—so daring— as to commit such an act right under my nose? To taunt me, hm? I suppose I underestimated you, Cardinale. You are not as _timid_ as I thought.” Copia huffs over his shoulder, and Papa turns back to him to narrow his eyes. “Do you have something to say?” Copia looks back to where the two of you had messed up the sheets and pushed the pillows into disarray, cringing.

“No, Papa.”

“That is good.” Papa turns to you, lifting his chin. "You pick him over me, eh? I am a Papa. It is foolish to turn me down in favour of him, Sorella.”

“I didn’t choose anybody,” you murmur, looking down. “I didn’t even realize either of you had feelings for me before today.” You rub a hand up your arm. “I return those feelings, you know. Both of yours.” Papa grips your chin, gently given the circumstances, and guides your tear stained face up to look at him.

“You let him take his pleasure with you in the sanctity of my bed. The evidence of such stains my sheets. Is this how you tell me you feel for me?" He lets you go, eyes softening as he brushes a hand against your cheek. You welcome the touch. “I do not blame you, Sister. Of course I don’t. I would be a hypocrite if I did. I only get excited sometimes, when it comes to something I want. As he evidently has,” he glares over his shoulder. “And I want you. If I did not make that clear before, I am now.” Papa turns to Copia fully, eyes cold as ice and words dripping with venom. "You will regret this, Cardinale."

With one last apologetic glance to Copia, you leave with a quiet apology, curtsying and hurrying out before things can escalate even more.

_Had you just lost both of them?_

\---

In the chapel the next morning, you find yourself kneeling in solemn prayer before the Baphomet. Communing with the Olde One always put you at ease, especially with the Nag Champa Sunrise you light at the foot of the statue. Yesterday had been trying. Two men vying for your affection, two who had developed something for you. This sort of thing was never easy. Clasping your hands together with your grucifix entangled around them, you whisper the unholy words to invoke his presence. You’re instantly calmed, but a vision begins to reveal itself to you.

You open your eyes as the midsection of the Baphomet begins to glow a soft red. You look down to your own stomach, and place your hands over it. _That time with Papa..._

You close your eyes, forgetting about last night with Copia long enough to recall the events of that night. Shit. You don’t remember either of you insisting on separation before the finish. Your mind starts to race. Finally, your promiscuity had caught up to you. It’s not a sin, it never was, but these things happen, and... evidently, it did. To you. Looking down again to your stomach, you wonder where this would lead you: pregnant with a lovesick Papa’s child and steeped in a Cardinal’s enduring adoration?

Satanas help you.


End file.
